Class Clown

Sitting in the back row,

Looking at his old desk.

He remembers his friends,

And all that was best.

Memories begin to fill,

Like an hour glass of sand.

What he did all childhood,

That brought out his best.

From the days he ran in diapers,

To the days he hadn’t any,

Walking around in his birthday suit,

Smiling all so pretty.

He remembers those times,

He had all the ladies eyes.

They all said he’s mine,

Ohh, you just ought to get in line.

He was always in trouble,

But never more than a bubble.

That could pop in your hand,

And make you forget your trouble.

As time moved on,

He wondered where it had all gone wrong.

As memories faded away,

Life, must always go on.